


Quite A Stretch

by EllanaSan



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Book 3: Mockingjay, Effie is a spy, F/M, No spoilers for the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 15:25:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2656958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You have your orders." she murmured, never parting with her fake cheerful smile. "I have mine." It seemed impossible, inconceivable even. Effie Trinket, rebel… It was quite a stretch. She had never hinted, never slipped, never…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone ! The idea for this story came while re-reading Mockingjay. When talking about Peeta’s rescue, Haymitch mentions people undercover and how costly in human lives the rescue was probably going to be. Then right after the drama with Peeta and Katniss, Plutarch mentions Effie (it’s the first time her whereabouts are mentioned in the book), saying they still don’t know where she is. All of this got me thinking and I decided that perhaps, Effie Trinket, rebel, wasn’t quite a stretch after all.   
> It is also my personal headcanon that Haymitch wasn’t a part of the rebellion for years. He is too unstable for rebels to risk it, so in my mind he only got in around the end of 74th Hunger Games/Victory Tour, probably through Cinna.   
> This is a hayffie story and there will be 6 parts, as usual I will post a chapter a day until it’s complete. I would have posted it as a single one-shot in Have a Drink, Sweetheart but all together it was too big =)   
> As usual, thanks to Akachankami for the beta.   
> I hope you will like the story, don’t hesitate to leave a comment. 
> 
> This story was published on ff.net a while ago and I had forgotten to put it on here.

_Act casual_ , Plutarch had said, _Play drunk, don’t make eye contact and stumble out as if you simply wanted some fresh air._

Haymitch had been a part of the official rebellion for less than a year and already he was done with their stupid advices. How did you act casual when you were trying to sneak out of the Training Center to get to a hovercraft that was supposed to take you on a rescue mission in an arena everyone in Panem had their eyes on at the present moment? He had been elated when he had first been approached by Cinna, after Katniss’ stunt with the berries, he had thought that _, at last_ , he would be doing something to change things. He would be able to actually _do_ something, save people. Now, he was unconvinced by those rebels that spouted orders left and right but didn’t seem to care about people. Yet it was his best bet to save the kids so he had no other choice…

According to the instructions he had been given, he should have already been out of the building and halfway to the meeting point. But he had wasted time. He had wasted time doing something Plutarch wouldn’t approve of – _hadn’t_ approved of when he had brushed the subject – and something that was probably not only unwise but completely mad.

Yet when he entered the sponsors lounge and spied the person he was looking for, he couldn’t quite regret his spur of the moment decision to bring her along. The kids would need her, he told himself, _Katniss_ would need her; if the rebels wanted her to play the part of the Mockingjay then she would need an escort. And they _were_ kind of friends, after all, he couldn’t really well leave her behind to an unknown fate.

Effie’s smile faltered when she saw him only to come back full force as she made quick excuses to the sponsors she was laughing with. He had planned to march in that room, grab her and get the hell out of there even if he had to drag her kicking and screaming. He found himself discreetly manhandled out of the lounge by her surprisingly strong grip on his arm.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, once they were in the corridor. He didn’t pay it any mind, she never liked it when he wandered drunk around sponsors. Unfortunately, he wasn’t drunk at all.

“I need you to trust me and not ask any questions.” He had rehearsed the speech several times in his head those last few days. He would have denied it if anyone had asked but the idea of leaving without her had never sit well with him despite everything Plutarch had to say on the matter. “We’re going to leave. _Now_.”

He didn’t know who was gripping who now. She was clutching his arm but he was grasping her wrist.

“You want to take me with you.” she whispered. Something akin to awe and fondness flashed on her face but it was soon covered by a scowl. “Don’t be ridiculous, Haymitch. I am touched, really, but you should already be gone. You need to get out of the building. Schedules are important.”

It dawned on him, quite suddenly, that she should have been surprised, confused or even angry. Instead, she was perfectly calm and a little too aware of what was going on. “Sweetheart, what…”

“You have your orders.” she murmured, never parting with her fake cheerful smile. “I have mine.”

“Orders?” he repeated, completely lost. “What do you…”

“Oh, now, you’re in trouble…” Effie interrupted him, her eyes riveted on the red-faced Head Gamemaker who was making his way towards them. Plutarch didn’t look pleased.

“What are you still doing here?” Plutarch hissed angrily. “You should have left fifteen minutes ago.” He glanced at the firm grip they still had on each other and frowned. “Effie, you need to go back in there.”

She nodded and tried to step away but Haymitch held on to her wrist. “What’s going on?” And then he shook his head because he couldn’t bring himself to care, he turned to Plutarch instead. “We’re taking her with us.”

“No, we’re not.” the Gamemaker argued. “She will distract them long enough so you won’t be missed.” His face softened slightly. “She’s been playing this game for us far longer than you, Haymitch, she will be fine, won’t you, Effie?”

“What do you mean?” He was almost afraid to understand.

“I will be.” Effie gave a sharp nod and gently pried Haymitch’s suddenly numb fingers from her wrist. “You have to go, Haymitch. The children need you.”

“But…” he tried to protest.

“I will be fine.” she repeated, her face softening. “Don’t concern yourself with me. Take care of the children for me, will you?” Her eyes darted to Plutarch. “Take care of him.” She didn’t wait for an answer, she pressed a quick kiss to Haymitch’s cheek and retreated to the mentor’s lounge.

“We need to move.” Plutarch grabbed his arm and dragged him along the corridors, his laughter booming each time their path crossed a Peacekeeper’s or a member of the staff.

A part of Haymitch marveled at how easily Plutarch seemed to be able to lie, another part whispered that perhaps it was him who was easily deceived.

“Explain.” he spat as soon as they were safely out of the Training Center.

“Wait until we’re in the car.” the Gamemaker replied.

He waited but only because even feeling as betrayed and lost as he currently was, he realized it would have been dangerous for Effie if they were overheard. Effie…

_She’s been playing this game for us far longer than you._

It seemed impossible, inconceivable even. Effie Trinket, rebel… It was quite a stretch. She had never hinted, never slipped, never… There had been the silent nights spent side by side on the couch after they had lost a tribute, of course… Those few times when her bubbly personality gave way to something more real and more human than the escort persona could ever be… There had been the odd mention, sometimes, that had made him think she was a tad more aware of what was happening than she let on… But from there to actually thinking of her as a rebel, it was…

“What do you want to know?” Plutarch asked, once they had safely climbed in the car that was supposed to bring them to the hovercraft. His fingers tapped on the wheel nervously, his eyes kept shifting left and right, watching the traffic… They weren’t out of the woods yet, Haymitch thought.

“She’s part of the rebellion?” he blurted out. The question seemed twice as stupid spoken aloud.

“Obviously.” Plutarch laughed before he amended. “She’s an excellent actress. Excellent asset. We were lucky to get her.”

Haymitch couldn’t still wrap his mind around it. “Effie Trinket is a rebel.”

“For years now.” The Gamemaker glanced at him. “She’s been working for us for almost six years. She’s actually the one who recruited Cinna a few years ago. She fought for you to be approached by Thirteen. People weren’t convinced you would be fit enough to join.”

Haymitch rubbed his face. “Why?”

“Well…” Plutarch winced, ill-at-ease. “Your addiction to…”

“No.” he cut him off. He had no interest whatsoever in hearing a list of his flaws. “Why did she… _How?”_ How did someone like Effie Trinket become part of an underground movement? Six years… Six years meant she had already been his escort for five when she had been recruited. He couldn’t for the life of him remember anything different around that time.

“I noticed her.” Plutarch shrugged. “I made a little digging. She was unhappy with the realities of the job : she felt guilty over the children, she saw the Districts first hand, you probably… She despises the suffering amongst other things. An escort has entries everywhere, she was perfect. I recruited her. Did you truly not suspect?”

Haymitch ignored the puzzled look the Gamemaker threw his way.

“No.” he sneered. “Should I have?”

“I suppose not.” Plutarch replied. “It’s just that… Well, she declined my proposition originally. She came back to me a few days later. When I asked what made her change her mind, she told me it was something you said. She wouldn’t say what it was… I’ve always wondered…”

There was a tacit question in his voice but Haymitch wouldn’t have been able to simply begin to answer. He had no idea what he had told her two weeks earlier, never mind six years. It was probably some insult or other.

“Is she going to Thirteen on a different hovercraft?” he asked instead of explaining how complicated and volatile his relationship with Effie was. It was a mix of loathing, odd sexual tension and fondness he couldn’t understand himself. It scared him sometimes _how_ _much_ he could feel for someone he wanted to pretend was a simple Capitol drone… Well. Not so simple, after all. And certainly not a drone. “Is that safe?”

He couldn’t help but worry about her. Rebel or Capitol, Effie was Effie and the Effie he knew, while always falling back on her feet, needed support. They were a team. They had been a team long before the kids came along.

The atmosphere in the car became awkward and then tensed very quickly.

“She’s not coming.” Plutarch said at last. “We need people undercover in the Capitol. She’s a Capitol citizen, she should be fine.” The last part was hurried and clearly not as sincere as he wanted Haymitch to believe it.

“ _Should_ _be_?” he hissed. “Turn around. We’re getting her out.”

“It’s too late for that and she volunteered.” the Gamemaker objected. “Our priority is the Mockingjay.” A flicker of annoyance flashed on his face. “One of you should have told me you were involved with each other. This isn’t…”

“We’re not involved.” Haymitch interrupted him. He almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculous conclusion on which everyone was always so quick to jump to but it didn’t sound funny anymore. “I don’t care about her.”

He wasn’t as good a liar as he would have loved to be.

“No?” Plutarch shook his head, still sporting a displeased face. “You could have fooled me.”

Haymitch only wished he could fool himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Haymitch ran to Command as quickly as he could, the communicator on his wrist angrily beeping for him to go faster. The room was empty except for Plutarch and Fulvia who were facing one of the giant screens on the wall.

“Ah, there he is.” Plutarch smiled.

Haymitch made a beeline for the screen, panting without shame from his impromptu sprint from the hospital. His time, since he had arrived in Thirteen two weeks earlier, had been spent fighting through his withdrawal and sitting at Katniss’ bedside. The girl was so pumped up on meds, she wasn’t even aware of his presence. It was probably for the best.

His heart raced when he saw the familiar face of his escort. Plutarch had warned him that the lack of communication was to be expected but it hadn’t stopped Haymitch from worrying about her. The Gamemaker’s other contacts had been equally silent and they were totally in the dark as to what was happening in the Capitol.

“Are you alright?” he asked her before anything else could be said.

Her communicator was obviously not of the best quality or she was having difficulties getting through to Thirteen. The image kept flickering. He couldn’t glimpse much behind her. She seemed to be sitting on a roof somewhere, he could see the dark night sky and the outline of Capitol buildings behind her… He knew that view. It was the Training Center’s roof, the only place free of bugs.

“ _Perfectly fine_.” she replied with a reassuring smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her voice slightly distorted by statics.

“Start your report, please.” Plutarch ordered.

Haymitch bristled at being so quickly shut off but Effie didn’t seem to mind. She summed up what happened after the arena exploded, how escorts and Gamemakers had been confined to the Training Center ever since. They were being questioned regularly, one after the other, but so far, nothing too dire had happened. When Fulvia expressed concern, Effie swore that they didn’t suspect her involvement in any way but were wary of her connections with Twelve and with Haymitch in particular.

More interestingly was the fact that Peeta was detained in the penthouse. Haymitch breathed more freely all of a sudden. All the more so when she promised he was fine for the most part.

“ _They’re shooting interviews_.” Effie concluded with a frown. _“Propaganda. They won’t hurt him as long as he accepts to work with them but… He’s becoming more and more difficult to handle_.”

“You are still acting as his escort, then?” Plutarch asked.

“ _Yes._ ” she nodded. “ _They trust me as far as they can throw me but since he listens to me… That won’t last long though. He’s starting to blame me. Should I break cover and…”_

“Negative.” Plutarch cut her off. “We need you in there. Gather intel. What else can you tell us?”

Haymitch remained silent for the rest of the discussion. He didn’t see how they could use tiny bits of information about one Gamemaker or another. They were all locked up anyway. As for Johanna and the other victors, Effie didn’t think they were in the Training Center.

“Do you have a way to get out if shit hits the fan?” he asked her once Fulvia and Plutarch were satisfied with her answers.

“ _Language_ , _Haymitch_.” She clucked her tongue. “ _Nothing justifies vulgarity.”_

“Not even someone lying through her teeth to her friend about her political opinions?” he snorted bitterly.

Her face contorted in visible guilt. _“Believe it or not, I am sorry.”_

“We will bring those news to President Coin.” Plutarch cleared his throat, nudging Fulvia out of the room. “Don’t stay too long, Effie. Now is not the time for recklessness. Stay safe.”

She nodded but Haymitch felt this call for caution was unnecessary, her eyes were already regularly darting over her communicator to check that nobody was coming or spying on her.

“You lied to me.” he accused as soon as they were alone.

 _“You did too.”_ she pointed out.

“It’s different.” he snapped, leaning against the table, folding his arms over his chest.

 _“How?”_ she asked softly. Her blue eyes dropped in sadness. “ _I did what I could for you, Haymitch. I recommended you for recruiting. I tried to get them to recruit you for years. It took Cinna to convince them. I am still too Capitol for them, even now.”_

“Why did you do it?” The question was a constant riddle in his mind. “Plutarch said it’s because of something I said. What was it?”

Her laugh sounded like little bells and it was so painfully familiar even across the bad communication, Haymitch’s chest tightened. _“You’re always so prompt to think everything I do revolves around you… Is it so hard to believe I am a decent person after all?”_

“You always were a decent person.” he grumbled, averting his eyes. “You live to annoy me, that’s all.”

 _“Well, then… I hope I shall annoy you for a very long time yet.”_ Her smile faded slowly. _“If anything were to happen to me…”_

“Don’t.” he ordered. “You’re getting out of there alive. You hear me?”

She didn’t promise anything of the sort. “ _You look awful.”_

He was well aware of how he looked. His skin had turned a sickly yellow from alcohol withdrawal and he had already lost weight. He didn’t look at his face in the mirror if he could help it but he knew there were bags under his eyes and that the stubble was threatening to turn into a beard.

“So do you, Princess.” he shot back. “The clown called, he wants his make-up back.”

“ _Your gibe were never funny.”_ Yet an amused smile was floating on her lips, it disappeared quickly enough. _“I need to go back inside or they might notice my absence. I don’t know when I will be able to contact Command again… Haymitch, I…”_ Her voice trailed off and she forced herself to smile again. He knew it was fake because it was strained. He also knew it was for his sake rather than hers. _“Stay safe.”_

“Stay alive, sweetheart.” His words seemed to please her and sadden her at the same time. It was his traditional farewell to their tributes. The ultimate advice he could give.

It felt exactly the same as each time he had sent a kid in the arena, except it was worse. If anything, it was equal to seeing Katniss and Peeta being sent back. She was over there, in danger, out of reach and he couldn’t do anything to protect her except hoping she would do the clever thing.

It was probably a bad time to realize he cared a bit more than he had thought.

Yet when the screen went black he couldn’t deny the fear that was gripping his heart.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_“And I am telling you, we need to do something._ ” Effie snapped, rubbing her face, regardless of the dark blue make-up she was smearing everywhere. She looked exhausted and it frightened Haymitch. _“If you could see them, Haymitch…”_ Her voice broke but she kept herself collected.

He was at a loss of what to tell her. The Command room was deserted again, people having drifted off after she had finished her report. Effie’s communications had been irregular during the last weeks and her status as a spy was kept low-key in case the Capitol had spies of its own. Ever since Peeta had been transferred from the penthouse to an unknown destination, Effie had been fretting. From what she had told them, Gamemakers and escorts were questioned daily about Plutarch, Haymitch and the other victors and the tone was becoming less and less friendly with each passing moment. A Gamemaker had tried to physically protest interrogation and had found himself beaten to a pulp.

A few days earlier, Effie had been pulled out of questioning and been dragged out of the Training Center to an underground prison. She had thought she was done for but they only wanted her to play the escort once again and make sure both Peeta and Johanna were presentable to shoot propaganda spots.

The Capitol was bombarding them with propos the rebels had troubles countering with their own. That wasn’t the problem, though. The problem was that Effie was revolted by the state Peeta and Johanna were in and couldn’t do anything at all for them. She was exhausted, terrified and desperate which was a bad mix. Sooner or later, she would betray herself. She was losing it.

Before he left, Plutarch had instructed Haymitch to get Effie back on track because they needed her. At that point, she was their main inside agent. The rumors floating around the Training Center and her trips to the prison were an inestimable source of information. _She’s a key operative and we can’t afford to lose her_ , Fulvia had written on a piece of paper when Effie’s voice had started to wander a bit on the hysterical side.

Haymitch agreed that they couldn’t afford to lose her but not quite for the same reasons.

“I know, sweetheart.” he sighed. What he wouldn’t have given for a glass of whiskey…

“ _No, you don’t.”_ she snapped _“You don’t have to stand there and watch them hide the bruises and the cuts under make-up all the while droning on about what they’re supposed to say or not to say. I can’t even tell them to hold on or to… to… I don’t know!”_ She was so frustrated she pulled on her wig. A blond braid tumbled on her shoulder. He wanted to joke about the fact that she finally had spilled her most well guarded secret or about the color perhaps but… He couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. He was exhausted too.

“Yes, I know, Effie.” He went for stern. “I stand there and watch while they use Katniss. I don’t know how to help the girl, she’s…” He didn’t finish his sentence. There was no point in finishing it. Katniss was broken, maybe beyond measure. Effie was the one who was good at sorting out feelings, he was mostly useless. “I could use you here.”

“ _Well… I could use_ you _here.”_ She placed the communicator down and wrapped her arms around her knees. _“I am in a terrible need of a hug.”_

“I will hug you all you want when you get your ass to Thirteen.” he snorted. “Did you find a way out yet?”

Plutarch wasn’t aware of that particular detail but Haymitch had been nagging her to find an escape plan in case things took a turn for the worst. He didn’t share the former Gamemaker’s confidence that her Capitol citizenship would protect her as long as she humored them. He knew deep in his guts that it wouldn’t last forever.

“ _There is no way out, Haymitch_.” She looked straight at him through her communicator screen. Her eyes were haunted, almost hopeless. _“This is just another part of the Games.”_

That wasn’t good. She couldn’t give up. That would get her killed. “Effie…”

“ _The next interview will be live.”_ she interrupted him. _“Hopefully they won’t hurt Peeta too much. I don’t know what they’re trying to do to him, Haymitch, I really don’t know. It looks like brain-washing. They just want information from Johanna but from him… What is the point?”_

“Hurting Katniss.” he shrugged. “Just like they will use Annie to get to Finnick.”

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall, hugging her knees close to her chest. “ _It’s a small mercy you don’t have a significant other, then.”_

“Been there, done that.” he reminded her bitterly.

She glanced at the screen guiltily. “ _My apologies.”_

“Yeah, well…” he grunted. “I don’t want to lose someone else, sweetheart, so be careful.”

 _“Why, Haymitch…”_ she teased “ _It almost sounds like you care about me.”_

He chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

 _“I wouldn’t dream of it.”_ She laughed but it was tired. It didn’t last long. _“I can’t stay any longer… I think I’m being watched more closely now. Please… Try to convince them to launch a rescue mission_.”

“Too dangerous.” he replied at once. “We can’t risk it.” Not only would it be a suicide mission but it would more than surely blow her cover. “Don’t do anything stupid, Princess.”

 _“Isn’t that my line?”_ she tried to sound cheerful but it fell flat.

“I’m serious, Trinket.” He was harsher than he would have liked. “Don’t get killed.”

She was silent for a few seconds and he almost wanted to remind her she needed to leave before someone realized she was gone.

 _“I miss you.”_ she confessed, frowning as if she didn’t quite understand it herself.

“Says the woman who wants to kill me on a daily basis.” he snorted. Once again, the joke didn’t work as it should have. “Be careful.”

 _“Stay alive. I know.”_ she smiled. “ _I will do my best.”_

How ironic, he thought a few days later, when Peeta alerted them of the impending bombing and he spent days buried deep into the ground, wondering if the next missile would be the one to blow them all to smithereens.

He had been worrying about her safety for weeks but she might outlive him still.

 


	4. Chapter 4

_“You’re alive._ ”

There was relief and awe in Effie’s voice and, even though she was speaking to the whole group pressed in front of the screen, her eyes were only looking at him. Haymitch had never seen her so exhausted. Even the make-up couldn’t hide the damages of anxiety: her blue eyes were bloodshot, her skin was so pale under the golden powder it almost looked translucent, her cheeks were hollow…

“Effie, what’s your situation?” Plutarch asked, very business-like, no doubt because of the unprecedented presence of Coin and Boggs in the room. There was no time for pleasantries now so Haymitch kept his mouth shut.

“ _I think they’re suspecting me.”_ Effie sighed. _“They’re still asking me to go to the detaining facility every two days but there are more guards and my room has been searched. I’m not sure how long I have until…”_

“Good.” Coin interrupted her, making her frown in confusion. “You will describe the prison and answer our questions.”

“She’s a friend not a prisoner.” Haymitch barked.

The President looked at him and then at the screen before lifting her eyebrows in surprise. Haymitch gritted his teeth but, fortunately, she didn’t comment. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything else.”

Plutarch lead the discussion and before long, the outlines of a plan took shape. Effie was due to prep Peeta for a propaganda shoot two days later, that was when the rebels would send their team. She would meet them and lead them to the cells and then, escape on the hovercraft with the victors. On paper, it was a simple plan. In reality…

“I don’t like the fact that she will be so close to the line of fire.” he snapped. “She can’t even use a gun…”

“She will be just fine.” Plutarch sighed. “Won’t you?”

The last part was addressed at the screen on which Effie nodded. Yet, Haymitch thought, she would have agreed to anything to take Peeta out of there even if her own life had been at stake.

Coin ordered Boggs to organize a meeting later on to brief the team and find volunteers then left, followed by her minions and Plutarch. Haymitch lingered behind as was his habit now.

“I don’t like it.” he spat at her. He had a bad feeling.

“ _I didn’t like the thought of you under those bombs either.”_ she snapped back. _“I was afraid you…”_ Her eyes filled with tears and she looked away. _“How’s Katniss?”_

“Not good.” he sighed. “She figured out Snow is using Peeta to hurt her. She had another breakdown. Finnick is in the same shape. I’m at my wits end.”

 _“They will all be reunited with their loved ones soon enough.”_ Effie promised. _“Everything will be fine.”_ She bit her lower lip. _“I should warn you though. I don’t know what they did to Peeta but… He’s not… I’m not sure how sane he is anymore.”_

“I will tell Boggs to bring sedatives just in case.” He ran a hand over his face, his communicuff caught in his beard. He struggled to get it free.

“ _That means you need to shave.”_ she mocked. _“It looks as if an animal clutched to your face and died there.”_

“’Can’t be bothered.” he shrugged.

“ _Bother_.” she advised _“I don’t kiss people with that much facial hair._ ”

He had been thinking about what to say to convince Boggs to let him volunteer for the mission but her statement brought his train of thoughts to a screeching halt. At first, he was sure he must have misheard her but she was staring at him in that unnerving way of hers, with that unbearably smug grin that always made him want to throttle her or kiss her senseless and, for a second, it seemed like she really was there and not simply a poor rendered image on a screen.

“Since when do we kiss?” he smirked.

 _“I’m considering it._ ” she replied very seriously. _“It would make for a romantic scene, I am sure. After all, I_ did _spent the last few days imagining you were lying dead somewhere under a ton of rubbles and I_ am _about to risk my life. I will need to throw myself at someone in relief when I finally get away from here, it could be you. I think I’m entitled to a bit of romance after that many tribulations.”_

He wasn’t so sure she was joking anymore. His eyes fell to her lips and remained glued there, watching the way her tongue regularly poked out to wet them nervously.

 _“Stop looking at me like that.”_ She cleared her throat awkwardly but it wasn’t enough to convince him to look away.

“Like what?” He knew how he was looking at her. He knew the lust was written plainly on his face. And he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

 _“Like you want to ravish me right here, right now.”_ she sighed.

“I will wait until you’re here.” he chuckled but then his amusement died down and he found himself being serious again. “If anything, _anything_ at all go wrong, you run away, you hear me, sweetheart? Lie, scream, call security if you have to… I want you to get out of there alive. Do whatever you need to do.”

 _“You_ do _care.”_ she frowned as if it was news to her.

The room was empty but he still felt ridiculously ill-at-ease. Why, though? It was the same Effie Trinket who had helped him to bed for years when he was so drunk he kept falling on his ass, had stopped him from drowning in his own vomit more than once and had always made sure he wouldn’t step too much out of line on national television. It was the same Effie Trinket and yet she was different.

“Tell you what…” he hesitated. “You get here in one piece and I will show you.” He had meant for it to be playful so she would rage with her never-ending talk about propriety but in the end, it sounded almost pleading.

 _“Alright.”_ Her smile was forced, she looked determined not to let him see how scared she truly was.

“And once you’re here, you can also tell me what is it I said that made you become a rebel.” he added to clear the air. “Plutarch is harassing me.”

It was a lie. Plutarch couldn’t care less.

 _“Perhaps.”_ Her eyes darted around her warily and, he couldn’t help but notice, lazily.

Maybe the rescue mission was actually a good thing, they would be rescuing her as well. The intel she managed to gather was good but they could do without it. Haymitch wasn’t so sure he could do without her.

“You should go.” It was the first time he had to remind her of that. She had always been careful about not staying out too long.

“ _I suppose I should_.” she sighed but instead of shutting off her communicator, she studied him for a while. _“Haymitch, if anything at all happens…”_

“Nothing will happen.” he said firmly. “Don’t think like that, sweetheart.”

It was bad enough that _he_ was certain something would go wrong.

 _“You never know.”_ she retorted with a frown. “ _Promise me you will do your best to protect the children, I do love them so. Tell them when it’s all over. Tell them I wasn’t the enemy, will you?”_

“Stop saying your goodbyes.” he snapped. “I don’t want to hear it.”

She ignored him because she was Effie Trinket and she always ignored everything he said.

 _“Take care of yourself, Haymitch.”_ Her hand passed in front on the screen briefly and he knew she was about to turn the device off. Yet, she paused. _“I do hope I will get to kiss you. If I have to die not knowing how it feels, I think I will regret it.”_

“You won’t die.” he spat. “I forbid you to die. Hear me, Trinket?”

The screen turned black and he was left alone.

Her voice rang on in his ears long after he had left the room.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Haymitch was waiting.

Command was dark since he hadn’t bothered with the lights. The room felt empty but so was his head, it seemed fitting somehow. Johanna wasn’t in good shape, Peeta was being probed and questioned by doctors, Katniss was drugged again… The only people who seemed happy were Finnick and Annie.

He scratched his chin. The stubble was already coming back. He shouldn’t have shaved.

“I looked everywhere for you.” Plutarch said before turning on the light.

“I’m waiting for her to make contact.” It was stupid and pointless. She had not met Boggs’ team where she was supposed to. She wasn’t in the cells with Peeta or Johanna. They hadn’t particularly looked for her either. Her whereabouts, as Fulvia had so nicely put it, were unknown.

“I highly doubt she will.” the Gamemaker sighed. “I have another source working in the Training Center. Someone denounced her to the Peacekeepers, they found the communicator. She was taken this morning.”

He closed his eyes. At time like those, he felt older than he was. “Is she alive?”

“I don’t know.” Plutarch offered truthfully. “I don’t know where she is, only that she was arrested. Her citizenship has been revoked. She is an enemy of state now.”

“Can you find her?” He really should stop asking pointless questions, he figured. Even if Plutarch knew where she was… What would they do? Coin would _never_ authorize a rescue mission for a former escort even if she had been working for the rebellion. Haymitch wouldn’t have recommended it either. You didn’t risk the life of ten people for a single person who wasn’t even necessary to the war effort. You simply didn’t.

But, _damn_ , how he wished they would…

“Maybe.” Plutarch wasn’t unsympathetic. “I will try.” There was a tense silence and then the Gamemaker cleared his throat. “I need to know that your head is still in the game.”

What a funny way to put it…

“My head never left the game.” he replied. _You never leave the Games_ , he wanted to add. He held his tongue though. “Who denounced her?”

“Is it important?” Plutarch sighed but he still flipped through the papers he was carrying. “Eleven’s escort.”

Of course. Effie’s everlasting rival.

“Viola’s won the war then.” His hands closed into fists and he squeezed as tightly as he could, letting himself fantasize for a brief moment that it was Eleven’s escort throat he was crushing. “What can we expect?”

Because Effie’s only known contacts were Plutarch, Fulvia, Portia and Cinna and all four were out of reach.

“In a week time, they will realize she doesn’t have any information of value.” the Gamemaker exposed calmly. “I think it’s safe to suppose they will want a public execution as much to hurt Katniss and Peeta as to make an example.”

“A week of torture and then death? That’s your solution?” he snorted. “No way… We have prisoners. We could exchange one of them…”

“We have Head Peacekeepers, soldiers, and minor politicians.” Plutarch shook his head. “Snow will never consent to any exchange anyway.”

“But he will know we want her back.” Haymitch argued. “Make it known the demand comes from me. If he thinks she’s of any value at all… If he thinks he can hurt _me_ through her…”

Plutarch remained silent for a few seconds and Haymitch could almost see the cogs and wheels turning in his brain. “That could work. But it means more torture, more pain. Are you sure you want to put her through that? Nothing guarantees we will be able to get her out or that she will still be alive when the war is over. You might very well make her agony last longer for naught.”

Was it even his decision to take? Haymitch grabbed his head in his hands. He needed a drink. No… He needed a bottle. There were things he couldn’t face without liquor and that was one of them. Pain or death? What should he choose?

And yet, he didn’t feel as if there was any choice to make…

He didn’t share Finnick’s ideas about people being better dead than used as pawns. He had lost his whole family, he had lost his girl… _Not again_. Not if he could fight it. Not if there was the slightest chance he could get her back.

He couldn’t give up.

And the Effie Trinket he knew would never _ever_ give up either.

They were fighters, both of them. Different kind of fighters maybe, but fighters nonetheless.

“Do it.” he ordered.  

“Again…” Plutarch hesitated. “Are you sure? If you love her…”

“I don’t _love_ her.” he spat. Was it a lie? Was it the truth? He couldn’t tell anymore. He didn’t know. “Do it. Tortured is better than dead.”

They would have a hard time keeping her alive but there was a small chance they could actually do it.

His grey eyes stared at the black screen.

 _They had to_.


	6. Chapter 6

Haymitch ignored the beeping of his communicator. If it was important enough, they would come and get him. Plutarch knew where he was after all. Everybody knew where he was. He had started to live in the hospital, dividing his time between Katniss’, Peeta’s and Effie’s rooms.

The war was won but, to him, it almost felt as if they had lost.

Peeta was the easiest one because he could actually _have a conversation_ , Katniss was still in a medical induced coma and Effie was talking but it was morphling induced gibberish. She was barely starting to get aware of her surroundings again. He thought he had glimpsed a flicker of recognition the last time she had opened her eyes but it hadn’t last long. She had thrashed and screamed soon after.

They were decreasing the morphling doses and her doctor had told him that morning that she should wake up properly soon enough. Haymitch didn’t want to miss it.

He must have dozed off because the frantic beeping of the heart monitor startled him. She was looking around in panic, trying to sit up but unable to find the strength to do so, she looked like a trapped animal.

“Hey.” he said quietly so she wouldn’t be alarmed. He didn’t make the mistake of trying to reach for her hand. She froze, staring at him with glassy eyes. “You’re in the hospital. You’re safe now.”

She blinked twice, her breathing was hard and labored. “Haymitch.” It was slurred and uncertain.

“Yeah.” He stood up slowly and when she didn’t show any sign of fear, he sat next to her on the bed. “You’re safe now.” He felt the need to say it again. He would say it a thousand times if he had to.

“Haymitch.” His name was a sob on her lips this time. He gathered her against his chest while she cried either in relief or exhaustion, he wasn’t quite sure, mindful of her injuries.

She fell back asleep against him. He forgot to make his usual visit to Peeta and Katniss, he sat back on his chair and waited, watching the coming and going of nurses who sometimes shooed him out for a few minutes.

It was late when she woke up again but she seemed more herself then.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked, the words still stumbling over each other. He helped her drink some water but it didn’t do much for the slurring. He had spent enough time with Katniss to know it was the effect of the drugs.

“Do you often dream of me?” he taunted and cursed himself at once. It was a bit early for the banter.

She didn’t seem to understand the joke. She was still pretty much out of it, he figured.

“Yes.” She tried to roll on her side and groaned in pain.

“Easy.” he chided her, pushing on her shoulder gently so she would remain on her back. “I’d have thought dreaming of me would count as nightmares in your book.”

Her eyes fluttered open and closed. “You owe me a kiss.”

“I do.” he smirked, brushing blond strands away from her face. “You can collect it whenever you feel like it.”

She nodded, eyes closed, and then frowned. “Haymitch?”

“Yeah.” He clasped her hand in his and rubbed it slowly. It was cold. She was always cold to the touch now.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked again. It broke his heart a little.

“No.” he promised. “I’m right here.” He hesitated a bit and then leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. Not quite a kiss but not totally innocent either. “See, sweetheart? Now _you_ owe me a kiss.”

Her fingertips brushed against his cheek. She was lacking coordination so he held her hand in place, leaning into it. He was glad the night shift was almost over because he wasn’t sure he could have survived the knowing smiles of the nurses – they were smiling an awful lot as it was.

“Did we win?” she whispered, her brow furrowed in concentration. The drugs were probably dulling her brain but Effie had never been one to let anything stop her.

“Yes.” he answered, letting his own doubts slid away. He could tell her about his lack of trust in Coin later.

“Good.” she breathed out. “The children?”

“Alive.” It was the best description he could give. _Fine_ would have been a lie.

“Very good.” she smiled and he pressed a kiss against the inside of her wrist, right above her pulse point. “Are you sure this isn’t a dream?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.” he snorted. He watched her eyelashes flutter some more, fighting sleep more likely than not, and he couldn’t quite suppress the surge of fondness. “What made you risk your life like that, Effie?”

He wasn’t particularly expecting an answer but she provided one nonetheless.

“You said I was like them.” she mumbled. “I didn’t want to be. I don’t want to. I…”

“You were never like them.” he snapped, angry at his own stupidity. He kissed her wrist again, wishing he didn’t sprout that many inanities when he was drunk. She had almost died in those cells and that was on him. It had been his choice. And apparently it was his fault if she had been there in the first place.. “I’m sorry.”

She hummed but didn’t actually reply. Her fingers escaped his hand to run around his jaw. “You shaved.”

“Yeah, well…” he snorted. “You don’t kiss people with facial hair. I thought I would take my chances.”

A ghost of a grin danced on her lips. “I would have kissed you even with the beard. I kept wondering how it would feel. Sometimes…” She frowned as if the memory was physically painful. Perhaps it was. “Sometimes it was the only think I could think about.”

It wasn’t a conscious decision to lean forward and press his lips against hers. It was slow and tentative but he didn’t resist the pull in his guts when she opened her mouth. It wasn’t perfect. The angle wasn’t good, it was awkward and even though she was responsive, the drugs made her reflexes sluggish.

It was still amazing.

The best kiss he had in years probably.

There was a spark, just as he knew there would be.

“Verdict?” he asked when he finally let go to breathe properly.

“Again.” It was authoritative and left no place for argument.

Haymitch was happy to comply.

He complied as many times as she requested.


End file.
